


Field Trip

by Tailkinker



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, CollarVerse, M/M, Slave Training, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tailkinker/pseuds/Tailkinker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kinky one-shot AU set in Oflymonddreams' Collarverse. Wilson is having trouble with his slave Greg, he takes a visit to the Slave Administration Centre to see how they control and train their slaves. He finds this trip very 'educational'...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Field Trip

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot set in the [Collarverse](http://www.fanfiction.net/community/CollarVerse/85158/99/0/1/0/0/0/0/) but AU to the main canon - this is not the future for the Collarverse but just a kinky little fantasy for Wilson :)
> 
> Just about everything Wilson sees happening to the slaves in this story was depicted originally in another story - Seven Stages by Oflymonddreams and Seven Stages - Greg's Story by myself.
> 
> Thanks as always to Oflymonddreams for their creation of the Collar Universe and for being so generous as to allow others to share it.

Wilson was in his new patient's room when they sent for him to deal with Greg. The patient, Mark, had been admitted for some follow-up surgery and then chemotherapy on his cancer and Wilson had formed a liking for him. He had an authoritative manner that Wilson was drawn to, Mark knew what he wanted and gave every impression of knowing how to achieve it.

Wilson was annoyed at the interruption when the security guard poked his head in the room and looked at Wilson.

"They need you in Doctor Cuddy's office Doctor Wilson - some sort of trouble with Greg. Need you to sign off on his punishment."

Wilson groaned, Greg couldn't seem to keep out of trouble for more than five minutes these days. Wilson had tagged him one year ago last Friday, they'd celebrated the anniversary with a nice dinner and some nicer sex, and for some reason Greg had been increasingly disruptive all week. He'd used up his last warning with Cuddy and Wilson knew that if there was a punishment involved this time, it would be another whipping.

He looked over at Mark.

"Sorry Mark, I've got to go and attend to this."

"Sure, your slave? Having trouble with him?"

Wilson was surprised that Mark had picked up on the situation so quickly but the man was perceptive.

"He's a handful. He just can't seem to keep out of trouble lately. I don't know what I'm going to do with him, he can't go on like this."

"Go and sort him out, then when you have time come back and have a chat to me. I know a little bit about slave handling."

Wilson stared at the man for a moment, intrigued, and then left to deal with his wayward slave.

* * *

"You work at a Slave Administration Centre?"

Wilson had checked Mark's file and found the notation under 'occupation'. He was excited to meet someone from one of the Centres, they were very secretive and not much was known about their operation.

"Not only work there, I run the one at New Jersey. I'm on medical leave to deal with this," he waved his arm to indicate his chemo line. "What happened with your slave?"

"Twenty lashes, " Wilson answered, privately savouring the memory of those lashes. Greg was exquisite when he was in pain and suffering. When he'd been taken down from the whipping post he'd been limp, exhausted and pliable in the guard's hands. It had been all Wilson could do to stop himself grabbing Greg and fucking him right there, in front of everyone.

"He's down in recovery now, he'll be there for a couple of days. He never learns though. He has a chronic pain condition, and half the time he's looking for the whipping as a way of gating his other pain."

Mark raised an eyebrow.

"Neat, and he can't be punished for self harm that way. So what have you all tried except for whipping him?"

"There's not much else we can do to him really."

Mark laughed. "Oh, there's a lots you can do to him. In the Centres we never whip the slaves, very rarely even cane them. It marks their skin, buyers don't like that. You ever seen a slave straight from a Centre?"

Wilson shook his head.

"They leave our places, they're obedient, they're well trained, they're all ready to use. It's the owners who wreck them. Then they end up like your boy, Greg was it? - having to be whipped all the time. You have to whip a slave, you've failed him, you've let him control you rather than the other way 'round. It's our job to look after these slaves, to teach them the right way to live. If you don't keep a tight rein on them they get confused, uncertain, and then they get into trouble."

Wilson was fascinated, was there an easy way to control Greg? He'd never seen a slave straight from a Centre but he'd seen the cleaning slaves slinking around the hospital, they never gave any trouble. Greg was a pretty unique case though, in the freedom he'd been granted. Wilson needed a way to reign that in, while still allowing him to function as a doctor.

"I'd like to know more, is there like..a textbook or something?"

"The Complete Idiot's Guide to Slave Handling? How To Train Your Slave in Ten Easy Lessons? That sort of thing?"

Wilson waved his hand around, embarrassed, before rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, something like that maybe."

"There's no textbook. There is something we do though, usually we only allow it for people who work with slaves, have large numbers of them to oversee, but you've been good to me, I could pull a few strings..."

Wilson smiled eagerly. "I'd like that very much."

* * *

It took a month, and he had to sign a strict confidentiality agreement and undergo background checking but one month later he was being shown in the visitor's entrance of the New Jersey Slave Administration Centre.

Mark was there to greet him.

"Doctor Wilson."

"Oh, call me James please."

They shook hands and Mark gave him a visitors badge.

"Now James, as you've been told it is very important that you not mention anything you see here to anyone, for any reason, well except to your boy of course, he might find it interesting to know you've had a tour here," Mark smiled and Wilson returned it, really the man was very charming. "Also, you may find a few things initially distressing, but there is a reason for everything we do, and the slaves are very closely monitored so that no harm comes to them. Bear in mind that these are tried and true methods, we've been doing basically the same things to train the slaves for over forty years, this is the optimum way to prepare them for sale, and for their new life. If we do this properly they won't suffer when they go to their new owners, they will be ready for their duties."

Wilson nodded, he was beginning to get apprehensive. Mark had said that they didn't whip the slaves, what did they do to them to require this level of secrecy?

"Okay, I see I'm worrying you, let's start at the beginning of the process and you can see for yourself."

Mark led him to a small room, at the front of the building.

"This is our Notarization area - all new slaves are brought here first. Those who surrender themselves get to walk in the front door, the rest are brought in by bailiffs. Here we fingerprint them, take a retinal scan and empty their pockets of any possessions. We read them the official document of enslavement, informing them of their rights, basically none, and fit them with a temporary collar and cuffs. Here, I'll show you, there's one being done right now. Please remember you can only watch, no conversation where the slaves can hear."

Mark guided him over to a machine in the corner. Two burly security guards were forcing a well dressed man to put his head down on a device that looked rather like a guillotine. Wilson watched fascinated as the device closed around the man's neck, leaving behind a strong looking plastic collar, the man already had cuffs on his wrists and ankles.

The guards dragged the man away, he seemed to be almost in shock as he stared at his cuffs.

"The collar and cuffs are very important, they're the main symbol of their enslavement. You get them on quickly they're well on the way to understanding their status. They won't be cut off until their new permanent ones are placed on them after they are sold. They will never be without a collar again." Mark told him, guiding Wilson along towards a doorway.

"After here they go through to our Admissions area, processing slaves is time and labour intensive process, we can only do a few at a time. The rest are kept in holding cages."

They went through the door the man had been taken through and Wilson stopped and stared. There were about a dozen large cages in the room, several of them held a slave. Some were still clothed, the rest were naked, and to Wilson's shock were all completely bald, not a scrap of hair on their bodies. One had a harness around his waist and his hands were cuffed to it. Most of the naked ones were crying.

Mark stood by one wall and talked quietly to Wilson.

"The naked ones have gone through the next stage and will be held here until they're ready for them in processing. The others are waiting their turn, the slave we just saw will be taken through to the shaving room next, we'll follow him."

"What is that one.." Wilson pointed to the male slave with the harness.

Mark smiled. "Some of the slaves at this stage try and retain a little dignity, they think they're above what is happening to them. The handlers like to install an early reminder of what they are now. That one has a small dildo inside him, the harness is holding it in place. As I said, there is no harm to the slave, but it's an effective tool in reminding him of his function now. Every time he moves his hands that dildo gives him a little nudge, see, he's getting hard just from it poking him - he'll be a natural."

Wilson thought about how Greg always got hard when he fucked him, even without Wilson having to touch him. Greg hated it but by the time Wilson had been fucking him for a while Greg would be so hard he'd be rubbing himself on anything he could reach to get off. Maybe he could get a harness and dildo for Greg to wear during the day, to keep his mind focused. Then when Wilson took him home at night Greg would be begging for relief.

"Oh, here we go, they're coming for that slave now," Mark said, gesturing to the well dressed man they'd seen being collared.

Wilson watched as two uniformed men went up to the cage and opened it, dragging the guy in the suit out by his ankles and then getting him to his feet. He was protesting but they ignored him, walking him between them to the far end of the room.

Wilson and Mark followed, until they stopped a discreet distance from the handlers. The man was slowly stripping off his clothes, the handlers watched until he was naked, his hands going to cover his genitals.

"All the men do that," Mark grinned. "They get out of that habit pretty quickly."

The handlers had the man hooked up to an overhead rail, spreading his arms, his legs were chained to rings at the bottom, then when they sprayed him with a hose the man spluttered and complained at the cold water, the handler with the hose sprayed the water at his mouth, effectively silencing him. The other handler laughed and putting on some gloves proceeded to soap the man up, running his hands up the slaves body, and cradling his cock and balls.

"They're getting the slave used to being handled, while they wash him they're instructed to discuss his body in demeaning language - how small his cock is, how tight his asshole is, how everyone is going to have fun using him, all the standard stuff. Any time the slave tries to talk to them he gets a burst of water in the face, they quickly learn to be quiet. A slave should never talk unless he's spoken to, we're very strict on that here."

Wilson didn't answer, he was staring at the chained slave. He'd tried to wash Greg a time or two, but Greg usually squirmed away or made stupid comments. This is how he should do it, chain him in place. Their shower wasn't big enough for the rail, but he could improvise something, he had cuffs, he'd get a spray attachment for the shower, and any time Greg tried to talk he'd do what these handlers were doing, spray him in the face. He'd soon learn to stay quiet while Wilson was washing him.

The slave suddenly squealed and jerked in his bonds, the men washing him grinned. Mark shook his head.

"The men always like to add their own little moves to the routine, anything to get the slave to understand that their body doesn't belong to them any more. One of them probably just slipped a finger up his asshole."

The men turned the hose off and unchained the slave. He was shivering although it wasn't cold in the Centre. They walked him down a hallway.

Mark gestured to Wilson.

"There's not much room in the grooming area - come with me and we'll go to my office and you can watch on the camera, everywhere is wired up. We can have some coffee then."

Mark's office had a large screen TV on one wall and he flicked on the remote.

"I can watch every camera in the place on here, and listen to what's going on. Here, this is the grooming room. We always shave new slaves bald, gets rid of any parasites, some of the slaves are in bad shape when they come in. Also it's an effective tool, nothing makes a slave feel more helpless than being naked and bald, like a child, it makes them less than human, which of course they are. It also gives the handlers full access to their bodies, they can see every inch of skin. The slave has nowhere to hide. I bet if you gave your Greg a full body shave it would knock some of the arrogance out of him. And don't let him have clothes if you take him home with you - he doesn't need them."

Wilson watched, transfixed, as the slave was shaved. He was lying on a table, limbs spreadagled and chained down. The handlers had finished doing his head and facial hair and were moving onto his chest and arms. Wilson was surprised when they skipped his groin.

"Don't worry - they'll come back to that," Mark grinned at him, "they need to reposition him to shave there. The male slaves are all so relieved when they think their groin isn't going to be shaved. Look, watch him as they reposition him."

The slave's legs were bent back to his body so they could access his cock and balls. He tried to struggle but was trussed so tightly that he couldn't move. The handlers laughed and went about their business.

"Your hospital has a groomer?"

Wilson nodded, without taking his eyes off the monitor.

"Just a part time one - but he only does their heads and faces as far as I know, not this...", he indicated the scene on the camera with a sweep of his hand.

"Oh, he probably would do it if you requested it, if you slip him something extra. Once you've fucked a nice clean body you'll never want him to have hair down there again."

Wilson wouldn't want Greg to lose his head hair, and even his scruff was nice when it was tidy. The rest of him though was very hairy, and Wilson had a sudden desire to see him as bald as this slave was. If Wilson couldn't get the groomer to do it he could do it himself, even use a blade instead of an electric razor, take his time, nice long sweeps of his slave's body. Shower him, then shave him, Greg would be putty in his hands before he was finished. He thought about how Greg would look hairless, how easy it would be to use him.

"I see you're beginning to get the idea. Your slave is there for you to use James, to have fun with if you like, don't let him destroy that. He knows his place, he's been to a Centre like this, he's been taught that, a few lessons and it'll come back to him. You need to keep on top of slaves all the time, never miss an opportunity to let them know what they are. That goes double for someone like your boy who thinks he's better than the other slaves, don't let him get away with thinking that. A slave is a slave."

The handlers were finished with the slave they'd been working on. He was crying and they had to practically haul him off the table and back down the hallway.

"Good job. It's good when the handlers at this stage can get them crying. Makes them more pliable for the next stage. Now they'll put him back in his cage for a while, he'll be put through to processing when there's an opening."

Mark fiddled with the remote settings.

"The next stage is where you might find it a bit shocking James. Just remember that all this is absolutely necessary, everything in Processing is done for a reason. The staff are highly trained and there's a very high staff/slave ratio. We can't go down there to watch but you can see it all from here."

The screen changed to a view of a very large hanger like room. There were cages around the sides of the wall, long, but not very high. Some of the cages were empty, some had a slave in them. As Mark switched between them Wilson could see that the cages were just high enough for a slave to sit, and long enough for them to lie flat in. The slaves in them were naked, and had nothing in the cages besides themselves, no coverings of any kind.

"There's no night and day in processing, the lighting never changes, we stagger the shift changes so the slaves can't keep track of time like that. There's a basic routine but it's jumbled up, never goes the same way twice. When a slave is taken out their cage they're always put back in a different one."

Wilson was staring in rapt attention at the screens. Suddenly he frowned.

"Can you turn the sound up, I can't hear anyone talking." There was a low background noise, something rather like a child whimpering but no human voices could be distinguished, even from the handlers moving the slaves around.

Mark grinned.

"That's because no one is talking in there. The handlers are forbidden to talk to the slaves, and they try and keep talk between themselves down to an absolute minimum. The slaves need to get used to the idea that they are no longer people - because they're not. They are handled impersonally, there's no cruelty or sadism here, we weed those people out in our application process. But we don't offer them comfort or compassion. They are furniture, pieces of equipment. You wouldn't chat to a table would you?"

Wilson had often heard Greg refer to himself as a piece of equipment, a walking, talking MRI machine. Now he saw it was true, that was what he was. Greg had been taught that in a place like this.

He watched as a naked slave was taken to a squat toilet in the middle of the floor, in full view of everyone, including the slaves still in their cages. There was a guard on each arm, and another two holding leashes attached to the slaves collar, the slave was unable to go anywhere they didn't want her to go, and she was forced to squat over the toilet.

"If they don't go by themselves they are given an enema, again, calmly, without any threats or violence. They quickly learn to comply. Toilet training is an important part of the process, nobody likes a messy slave."

Another slave was being harnessed to a treadmill, which was then started and the slave had no choice but to start running.

"Many of the slaves that come here are unfit, many are addicts of one sort or another. Their new owners will expect fit, healthy slaves, slaves that can work twelve hours a day without flagging. They are exercised every day they are at the Centre, and they eat Slave Chow almost exclusively. The weight falls off them if they are overweight and the Chow has all the minerals and vitamins they need. There's no coffee, no cigarettes, no alcohol, soft drinks, no fatty food. Our slaves are healthy and fit when they leave here."

"It's...it's a little overwhelming, I didn't realise so much went into it."

"It's not easy to turn an adult, even a dysfunctional one like most of these were, into a slave. They need to know, deep down, without even thinking about it, what they are. Once they know what they are they'll be able to fulfil their function, whatever their owner decides that is."

Wilson looked at another of the monitors, there was a slave strapped to a table but he couldn't quite see what was happening.

"What are they doing with that slave? I can't see."

Mark focused the camera in on that table.

"They're measuring him."

"Measuring..."

"It's probably the most important part of the time they spend in processing. It gets them ready for sexual use. We insert dildos of varying sizes, butt plugs, things like that - see what size they can take, we always make sure the slave can see us taking measurements and writing the numbers down. It does give us some useful information, but it's mostly to grind into them what their status is. They're just objects to be used, and that's what they need to understand. The staff are also encouraged to come back when they're off duty and take the slaves out of their cages and fuck them. It needs to become routine to the slave, accepted, otherwise the first time a free person wants to make use of them when they're sold they'll be kicking up a fuss."

Wilson stared at the camera but he wasn't seeing the slave on the table. Instead he saw Greg, lying there, helpless and chained, his body naked, hairless, having these men and women insert dildos into him and fucking him with them. Did he come? He came when Wilson fucked him, mostly without Wilson even having to touch him.

"Do they..do they...makes tapes?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Do you make tapes of their training, maybe I could...where he was trained..."

Mark smiled at him.

"We do record all activities, mostly for training the staff, but we don't keep the recordings for very long. There wouldn't be any from when your slave went through processing. There's nothing to say you can't reproduce it though. Or the Centres will take on some private jobs, people who want their slaves to come back here, for a 'refresher' course so to speak - it's expensive though."

Wilson wondered if Cuddy would let him do that with Greg, probably not, Greg was a valuable asset of the hospital, one she liked to work for as many hours a week as she could. Still, it wouldn't be hard to do it at home, he already had a few toys, he could buy some more. Make a game out of it for the two of them, see just how much Greg could take.

"Come on, we'll go out on the grounds and I'll show the finished product."

Mark led him outside and to a balcony overlooking a sports field. It was muddy, churned up and the weather was cool. They looked out on a squad of about twenty slaves, all naked of course, kneeling on the muddy field.

"They don't seem to be doing anything." Wilson was a bit disappointed.

"They're learning how to kneel for long periods of time in the correct form. Head up, eyes down, hands behind their back and knees slightly spread. The handlers walk amongst them and correct their form. Every time they break form the handlers will mark them with a dye strap. A slave who has no strap marks at the end of the day gets a treat - a piece of food that isn't Slave Chow, they all want that."

Greg couldn't kneel very well any more, because of his leg. He could do it, but it was awkward and painful, and Wilson didn't think he would be able to hold the position for very long. Maybe he could find a different position for him, and then train Greg to hold it and reward him when he did well. He could mark Greg for every infraction, somewhere on his body, where only Greg and he would see, but Greg would know the marks were there. No marks at the end of the week and he'd get a treat, too many marks and he'd get a punishment.

Wilson had a sudden urge to run out to the sports field and walk amongst the slaves, correcting their postures, rewarding them, punishing them. Mark seemed to notice his agitation.

"Something else you might find interesting, they should be starting in a minute or two according to the schedule. A more advanced class than these ones."

As they walked down to ground level the kneeling slaves were released from the field. They formed a single line and had their hands cuffed together in front of them. Then they started to move off, the slaves holding their hands up against their waist, so that their genitals were on full display.

As they disappeared into the building a smaller group of slaves came out. Each one was on a leash, the leash held by a handler.

"This is leash training. It's more difficult than you might think for a slave to walk correctly on a leash. Ideally they will walk behind the handler at such a distance that the leash isn't tugging at their neck - which would suggest reluctance, but not too close that they are crowding the handler. They must also be responsive to commands at all times."

As Wilson watched the slaves and their handlers halted at the beginning of the field. Each slave went immediately to their knees, their legs spread apart, their hands behind their back and their head bowed.

The first handler made a slight hand gesture and the slave gracefully got to their feet. The pair walked off, the slave trailing behind the handler. Wilson noticed that there was slack on the leash and that the slave kept a respectful distance behind. Suddenly the handler stopped, the slave immediately knelt in the same position. Before they had a chance to settle the handler made another gesture and the slave got back up to their feet. They continued that for some distance, the handler changing course suddenly, the slave following. Several times they halted so that the slave had to kneel.

After one halt the handler unclipped the leash from the slave and walked some distance away.

The handler then gestured and the slave crawled towards their handler on hands and knees, half way there the handler made another gesture and the slave went down on their stomach and belly crawled the rest of the way. On regaining their position kneeling next to the handler the handler put a hand down on the slaves head and briefly patted it. Then she produced a ball from her pocket and threw it. The slave got to his feet and went running after it, picking the ball up in his mouth and then returning to the handler's side, dropping it at her feet.

"They're training them like dogs," Wilson said as he realised where he'd seen this sort of display before. "Like they're pets."

"Slaves aren't pets James, don't sentimentalize it, they're just things. But they can walk and talk so they need to be trained to be as useful as possible."

Wilson realised that he was getting hard, the humiliation of the slaves was extreme and he was getting off on it. He surreptitiously shifted from foot to foot, placing his hand casually in front of his groin and tried to think of something else but the image of Greg on the end of his leash, being walking through the hospital, Greg attentive to his every command. Greg fetching a ball in his mouth...

"If you would like to use one of these you may James," Mark waved his hand at the three slaves still doing their 'leash training'. They'll be finished soon, just say which one you'd like and you can have him. Either here on the field or in private if you prefer.

"No...no, I can't...not some random slave..," when he got back to the hospital he'd take Greg back home and have him, maybe he'd even talk with Greg about what he'd seen here, Greg might be willing to tell him about his own experiences at a Centre.

"You shouldn't be squeamish about it James, the slaves are there to use. All we ask is that they are treated well and not abused, we don't want to make them scared of the process, rather that they accept that being used is one of their functions, just as much as cleaning a toilet is. I'm sure your hospital has a policy allowing use of the slaves, as long as it doesn't upset them or interfere with their work."

"Yes...but I've tagged Greg now, no-one but me can use him."

Mark laughed. "But he hasn't tagged you James, there's nothing to stop you making use of one of these."

Wilson looked away, he felt foolish but he didn't want one of these nameless, hairless slaves, he wanted Greg.

When Wilson returned to the hospital in the afternoon he went straight to the diagnostics offices. The fellows were there, lounging around the table. They took one look at him and found other places they needed to be, quickly leaving the room. Greg was in his little cubbyhole of an office and he looked up as Wilson entered, his expression wary.

Wilson pulled a leash out of his pocket and clipped it on Greg's collar.

"I had an interesting tour today, Greg. I went to one of the Slave Administration Centres and had a look around it."

He watched with satisfaction as Greg paled and seemed to shrink into himself. All trace of 'Doctor House' left his appearance and there was only 'Greg' - his tagged slave.

"Come on, we're going home. There's a few things I want to try out with you."

Wilson grinned at the sulky expression on Greg's face.

"Don't worry, it's nothing you haven't done before. If you're a good boy I'll even give you a treat."

The End


End file.
